APRIL 2020¬I LOST track of
how many mornings
I spent in conference
rooms sipping coffee
from Styrofoam cups
alongside college
presidents. They
would congregate at
the NCAA’s national
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worked as a writer
and editor for seven
years, to slap backs
and parse the rules
that governed the
lives of 500,000
college athletes.
Without fail, these
chummy gatherings
included skirt steak
and a budget review,
and one line on
those spreadsheets
seemed both simple
to gloss over and
impossible to ignore.
It pertained to the
insurance policy that
would kick in if the
men’s basketball
tournament, which
is responsible for
more than 80% of
the association’s
annual revenue, was
canceled and the
funds for the event’s
TV rights voided.
More often than
not, the insurance
line went unnoticed.
Occasionally, though,
a president would
peer over their
glasses and ask the
room about worst-case scenarios:
“If another 9/11
happens and there
is no tournament, no
TV money, no ticket
sales...what then?”
Well, what now?
On March 12 the
NCAA scuttled
March Madness for
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history—as well as
the championships
for every 2020 winter
and spring sport—
not because of a
disquieting public
spectacle, as some
feared, but due to
invisible microbes
leaping from one
person to the next,
unchecked, across
oceans and borders.
While the NCAA
has not yet made
public the details
of its shutdown, it
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may have to fund its
robust operations via
that once-obscure
insurance policy, and
through its hundreds
of millions of dollars
of assets, which
have been gradually
evaporating in recent
years thanks to
1) an injection of
cash to help D-I
schools provide more
for athletes and
) jfd\_`^_$gifÓc\
legal settlements
begotten by the NCAAand its member
schools’ collective
inability to keep
pace with changing
dynamics in society
and sports.
While the massive
check Turner Sports
and CBS cut for
tourney rights does
help pay salaries for
hundreds of staffers,
the overwhelming
majority of that
money subsidizes
the NCAA’s other
89 championships
across all three
divisions; goes to
schools to help pay
for scholarships; and
underwrites a litany
of other programs,
including a fund for
athletes in need.
Will the insurance
money—which
covers only a portion
of the revenuepresumed to be
lost—and those
reserves be enough
together to keep
such programs fully
funded? A glance at
the numbers suggest
it’s likely, but the
coronavirus could
exact a serious toll. In
the NCAA’s last public
kXoÓc`e^#]ifd)'(/#
the organization
listed $425 million
in net assets, down
from $718 million
in ’14, while annual
expenses eclipsed
$1 billion. (An NCAA
rep declined
to comment.)
What happened
to those reserves?
In 2016, the
association allocated
$200 million to
D-I schools to
subsidize programs
for athletes. In
’17 they created a
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resulting from a
class-action lawsuit
tied to paying for
athletes’ full cost of
attendance. In ’19,
another $70 million
was earmarked
for a concussionsettlement. And
now the association
is caught in what
is poised to be a
protracted and
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name, image and
likeness payments
for athletes. With
healthy reserves and
an insurance policy,
a lost tournament
might simply be a
$900 million blip.
But, thanks to some
costly systemic
issues, the impact
on the NCAA and its
members could be
more profound.
March Madness
is also a boon for
smaller schools.
Universities receive
funds for making the
Ó\c[f]-/#Xe[X[\\g
run can have a lasting
impact on enrollment
and donations.
My empathy lies
with the players who
will miss out on what
might have been
one of their lives’
most meaningful
moments; with my
former colleagues
tossed into a
maelstrom; and
with the decision-
makers faced with a
dilemma that had no
satisfactory answer.
The NCAA made the
right choice and
should be lauded
for it, but the right
choice has been
rendered potentially
more painful
because of so many
wrong ones made
in the past, often
over coffee in cold
conference rooms.
—Brian Burnsed41NET LOSS
THE NCAA CANCELED ITS CASH COW.
NOW, HOW BAD COULD THIS GET?LAN
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TEW
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